


Illusions of the Dreamer

by PaintTheWorldMad



Category: The Sandman (Comics), Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Gen, I broke and added some klance, I explain the important stuff, Lots of Angst, Lots of talk about death, Off-Screen Major Character Death, POV altering, PTSD, Suicide Attempt, couple original characters, each paladin gets a chapter, little disclaimer there, mostly i'm just borrowing that ideology, okay actual tags now, seasons 4 and 5 are slow roasted and carved for the juicy bits, so yeah keith is still in the black lion, starts almost immediately after season 3, story centers around hunk allura and shiro, you don't have to have read any of the sandman comics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-11 18:58:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11720493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintTheWorldMad/pseuds/PaintTheWorldMad
Summary: “Only one is alive now. The next will come to us soon. The rest will not live for some ten thousand years.”The one who was walking away turned back to face the group, crossed their arms over their chest, and pouted. “Ten thousand years? Why call us now?”“It was necessary.”“Necessary.” Coran could hear the quirked eyebrow in the statement.“Yes. Mine is with us now. It was important that he see this meeting.” He looked up and his hood fell back just enough that Coran could see the sightless eyes lock with his. He gasped, and stumbled backward, but could not look away.“You allowed this?”“It is necessary. He is mine, after all. Go on, Coran. Run back to your sister, she is waiting for you. We will come for you, in time.”Coran has been traveling to a mysterious garden in his mind for years (centuries, even). It always made him slightly uneasy, but now that he knows why, he can't help but be scared for the lives of all of Team Voltron.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> You do not have to have read the Sandman comics to enjoy/understand this. I said it in the tags, but I'll say it again.  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but the order the words are in.

## Prologue

It happened for the first time when Coran was very young. He was playing with his sister in the palace gardens. Hide and seek (or a variety of it. There was a lot of running and giggling). He hadn’t even noticed that he had wandered into the maze at the center of the garden. It wasn’t until the tall hedges, adorned with sweet-smelling blossoms of all shapes and sizes, surrounded him, twisted and turned around him with no end in sight that he realized he was lost. He wouldn’t call for help. Not yet. He wanted to prove that he was more than a child. After all, he couldn’t have come very far into the maze. 

And so he kept walking. The flowers around him smiled, and pointed the way he should go. He thanked them, his moustache bobbing as he bowed and hurried on. 

He’d never seen these flowers before. They were large--each petal bigger than his head and the whole blossom wider than he was tall. These flowers smiled at him, baring teeth longer than his fingers. He ducked his head and hurried past them. Beyond them the hedges opened, and he ran for the opening, despite the fact that the sun did not shine on the other side of the hedges.

The grey air stuck on his tongue and in his lungs. He looked up and they grey sky looked back down at him. He was no longer in the palace gardens, or he was in a part of them that he’d never seen. The grass, a rich green dulled by the thick atmosphere, stretched onward in all directions, broken only by a winding, cobblestone path. He turned around--if he could find his way back to the start of the maze maybe no one would notice that he had gone--but the maze was gone, and the garden (it had to be a garden of some sort) stretched on. 

Coran swallowed the lump growing in his throat (he mustn’t cry, he was nearly 50 decapheebs, after all), and began to run toward one of the grey, stone paths. Surely if he followed it for long enough, he would find someone who could help him. 

He couldn’t tell you for how long he ran. It could have been hours or seconds, he doesn’t remember. The garden became cluttered with statues. Huge stone figures of men and women, when Coran glanced back they seemed to have moved. Some were staring at him. Others looked disappointed. He shuddered and kept running. 

“ _ It’s happened again, hasn’t it? _ ”

“ _ I am afraid so.” _

Voices began carrying across the open, rolling hills. Coran ran toward them. 

_ “And here I thought that our brother had gone and messed something up again.” _

_ “Please do not speak about me like I’m not here.” _

_ “Whatever you say, dearest brother” _

He crested a hill and saw them--7 figures sitting in and around a white, elaborately carved gazebo. Something in him was frightened by the sight of them, and he ducked behind a statue. Yet, for all his fear (some primitive instinct that he could not place) he could not stop watching and listening. He felt that he knew them on some level, whether consciously or not. 

_ “Where are they? When are they?” _

_ “Spread across a galaxy and thousands of years.” _

_ “I never like it when you talk in riddles.”  _ one of them--Coran could not tell if they were a boy or girl--threw their hands up and began walking away.

_ “Desire, wait.” _

_ “Only one is alive now. The next will come to us soon. The rest will not live for some ten thousand years.” _

The one who was walking away turned back to face the group, crossed their arms over their chest, and pouted.  _ “Ten thousand years? Why call us now?” _

_ “It was necessary.” _

_ “Necessary.”  _ Coran could hear the quirked eyebrow in the statement.

_ “Yes. I do not know all, I have not read ahead,”  _ the tallest one fingered the pages of a massive, golden book. The chains that bound him to it clanked together in a harsh, melodic way,  _ “But mine is with us now. It was important that he see this meeting.”  _ He looked up and his hood fell back just enough that Coran could see the sightless eyes lock with his. He gasped, and stumbled backward, but could not look away. 

_ “You allowed this?” _

_ “It is necessary. He is mine, after all. Go on, Coran. Run back to your sister, she is waiting for you. We will come for you, in time.” _

Coran turned, though it took every ounce of energy that he possessed to look away, and ran. He did not know where he was running, only that he was running away. The landscape changed around him, and he did not notice. If he did, he payed it no mind. The ground under his feet turned from the soft grass to the packed dirt and stone of the palace gardens. The thick foliage and bright flowers of the maze flanked him. His sister stood in front of him, and he skidded to a stop, nearly running into her. She caught his arms as he doubled over, panting.

“Coran? Coran? What happened?” she asked, tiny hands framing his face and forcing him to look up into her large, effervescent eyes. 

“I, there were people, I wasn’t--” he looked around himself with wild eyes, yanking his head from his sister’s hands. “I…” he shook his head. “I’m fine. I just got lost in the maze is all.”

His sister looked worried, but the concern left her face soon enough. She lit up in a smile and grabbed his hand. “Come on! I found a bug that I wanted to show you. I want you to tell me what it is!” He allowed himself to be pulled away by her, away from the maze and the people and the strange garden and the words they had said. They still echoed after him like a dream, or music heard from a distant room as one lingers on the edge of sleep. 

_ “What now, Destiny?” _

_ “Now, we wait.” _


	2. One -- Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coran begins to come to terms with the Paladins' fate, Hunk makes cookies, they discuss strategy, and Allura is tired.

## Chapter One

#### (approximately 10,150 years later)

“He does this a lot?”

Allura sighed. “At least once every few quintants. Turns the maze on, walks to the center, and sits there for hours on end sometimes. He does the maze blind, too.” She adjusted her weight, and rested her chin in her hands, her elbows propped up on the control board for the training room. “Father always said that he was meditating. Sometimes I think he is, but I can’t help but feel that it isn’t always the case.”

Beside her, Lance folded his arms over his chest and hummed. “What would he be doing, then?”

“I wish I knew. For all his chatter, Coran has always been very private. Not even his own sister knew why he does this.”

“Coran had a sister?”

Allura laughed. “He did. She was younger than him by a few decapheebs, and they were always really close. She was definitely the brute strength in their relationship. She died defending the castle, not long before Coran and I were put to sleep. I never knew her very well, and he doesn’t talk about her much.” She shook her head dismissively. “Not that there’s anything we can do now, as much as I hate to say that.” She stood up and stretched her hands above her head, groaning satisfactorily when her back popped. She glanced through the screen to the floor of the training room, where the faint blue walls of the invisible maze simmered and cracked around Coran, who was seated cross-legged on the floor, hands palm-up on his knees, eyes closed, and his face a perfect deadpan. “We should leave him be for now. I can’t imagine what he would say if he found we had been spying on him.”

“Now, Princess, I wouldn’t exactly call it _spying,_ would you?” Lance asked as he followed her out the door.

She laughed. “I would actually. Don’t try to make us sound any better than we are.”

“Whatever you say, Princess.”

 

Coran did, in fact, spend most of his time meditating in the center of mazes. It relaxed him and helped him gain a clearer view of everything that had happened, was happening, and would happen, eventually. He could see it in glimpses, if he tried hard enough--or didn’t try, depends on how you look at it. That was never the reason he went into the mazes, though. It was the only way to get to the Garden. He didn’t always make it, but on the times he did, he wandered the paths of the garden, trying to find the man in the dark robe with the book (Destiny. He found that out when we was younger, before the fall of Altea). They would walk together--Destiny always greeted him warmly--and sometimes they would talk. Not always. Coran always spent much of his time staring at the sky, and he fancied that he could see everything in it (perhaps he could). He knew so many things because of that place. He knew Altea would fall, he knew where and how the lions would be scattered, he knew he and Allura would sleep for several millennia before the lions would be regathered and he would witness the fall of the Galra Empire. He knew all of this, and could say nothing of it (what would he say? That he knew a man in a world that didn’t exist that held every secret in all of existence?).

He hadn’t made it to the Garden today. In all honesty, he was not sure if he even wanted too. Destiny had been somewhat on edge as of late (since Coran woke up) and talked less. The sky showed him less (or the same, possibly more. It was all so convoluted that he couldn’t tell anything end from end), and Destiny would never meet his eye (as much as a blind man ever can). Sometimes when Coran arrived to the garden there would be others there talking angrily, worriedly, or despondently. They always stopped as soon as Coran got within earshot, and Destiny never explained. The whole thing left Coran in a dizzy, frustrated mindset, which he knew could only be remedied by spending time in the garden (and yet, the garden was at the root of all his problems. How perfectly paradoxical), but he didn’t really want to go there.

Perhaps that is why he has not made it back in at least 10 quintants.

He sighed and ran a hand down his face, breaking his heretofore perfect meditative composition. Perhaps if he went back with the real intention to get answers, it would calm some of the fear he felt welling in his chest. Then again, perhaps it would only make it worse. He stood, and began walking out of the maze, his footsteps falling perfectly in line like they knew instinctively where they needed to go. Coran watched the ground in front of his feet--still lost in thought--and didn’t quite notice when the white, semi-reflective floor of the castle turned to stone. A breeze caught his hair and forced him aware of his surroundings. He looked up and into the ever-familiar expanse of grass and cobblestone pathways.

“You have come to terms with your fear?” Coran would have jumped at the voice that appeared suddenly behind him, but somehow he expected it.

He turned to face the man (taller than him, probably taller than Alfor). “I--yes.” He nodded. “I have.”

“Good. Walk with me. My siblings will be here shortly. They will want to bargain.”

Coran fell into stride with Destiny and locked his hands behind his back, sparing glances at the book Destiny held in his hands (it was open, though in a script Coran could not read). “Bargain over what, exactly?”

“Your life, and the lives of your friends.”

“Oh really?” Coran quirked an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

“Because you were chosen to be our representatives in the waking world. Except things have not gone...exactly as planned this time,” Destiny said. Coran could hear the masked hesitation in his voice. “You will know more as the time passes. That is all I can say at this time.”

Coran hummed in response, and they fell into a comfortable silence. He looked up to the clouds, more out of habit than anything else. They told him that the voltron paladins were happy (stressed, but coping well) and that currently they were having sock-skating competitions in the corridors of the castle. They also told him that Death was coming, (waiting in the garden for them, just up the path) and that she would want to talk. They told him he would not like what she had to say, though he could not make sense of why, or any of the events to follow. Not that that surprised him; the clouds had been eluding him for years.

“They’re not eluding you, you just don’t want to hear what they say,” Destiny said. “You’ve been ignoring them for some time now.”

Coran found himself staring hard at the ground. “I…” it was useless lying, he knew that, “have. They didn’t make sense before, and now…”

“Now you don’t want to accept them. It happens to the best of us.” Coran looked up to the source of the new voice. A young woman with ashen skin and dark, frizzy hair. The marks under her eyes seemed to glow with a faint, lilac light. “It’s good to see you, Coran. How have you been holding up?”

“Fit as a fiddle, my lady. The kids are a little worse for wear, but nothing that we can’t fix with elbow grease and a healthy dose of team bonding.” He rocked on his feet. He knew it added a sort of “spring-in-my-step” effect, but at this point it was more of a nervous tic than anything else.

She laughed. “That’s good to hear. It’s so nice to have someone refreshing in the garden for once, eh Destiny?”

“Your joke about my seemingly stiff nature did not go unnoticed, sister.”

“Well it wasn’t very cleverly disguised.”

Destiny sighed (a rare occurrence). “Death. You had something to say?”

“Yeah yeah,” she said. “This whole thing is just really bad timing for everyone.”

“I am well aware.”

“Yeah, well Desire isn’t happy about it. I think they have plans to “fix” it,” she made air quotes with her fingers, “Or foil it, whichever terminology you like better. Either way, they have plans to involve themself in the affair.”

“This does not surprise me,” Destiny said, his chains rattling as his weight shifted.

“Yeah me either. They do this a lot. The problem here is that, well, Dream might be joining them.”

“Daniel?”

“Yeah him. He’s been with us for less than a century, and what with Morpheus’ death and all, he’s just uneasy. To be honest, so am I. We’ve never done one of these so...spread out before.”

“I agree that the timing is...unfortunate. Is there any way to pacify them?”

Death shrugged. “I tried talking to Desire, but they seem pretty set. Their stead, what was her name?”

“Pidge,” Coran offered.

“Right. They’re pretty attached to her, and seeing as how she’s firmly rooted in Desire’s realm, I don’t think it will be easy to sway her.”

“What about Dream?” Coran asked. “Is there any way to get him to play along? I know that Morpheus was typically pretty passive about these things, but Daniel…?” he glanced up at the clouds and shuddered at their implications.

Death shook her head. “I don’t know. I wish I knew but I don’t. This whole situation is way more complicated than it should be.”

“I know, sister.”

“No, you don’t know. I know you know everything but you really don’t. I should be down there. I should be mortal for this and I’m _not._ ” Death rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. “Shit’s about to hit the fan and that poor girl is going to have to face it herself and I hate it.” Her hands dropped back to her sides. “But you knew all of that, as always. I just thought I’d tell you; this round of the universe’s sick way of making us reevaluate ourselves is going to go worse than usual.”

“If it’s any consolation, the paladins are holding up very well so far. I can see each of them taking their roles and they’re shouldering the burdens very well.” Coran said, smiling and hoping that it would lift the mood. (he knew it wouldn’t)

Death smiled weakly back at him. “Thanks darling. I needed that.” she looked down at her wrist, where the sleeve of her black, ornately embroidered dress met her hand. “You should probably be getting back. We’ve keep you for too long.”

“Noted, miss. Should I tell the paladins yet?”

“No--”

Destiny cut her off. “Perhaps it is time. Owing to the unusual circumstances, perhaps it will be better if they know beforehand.”

“Perhaps? Did you just say perhaps?” Death said, mouth agape. “Approximately how many rules are you breaking right now?”

“None, I have no knowledge of how this plays out. You know that. Coran is my stead in this--I cannot act but for his instruction and approval.” Destiny said. “Coran, it us up to you.”

“Oh good joy. I never. I should… I should think this over for a while.” Coran stuttered, twirling his moustache. He dared another glance at the clouds. They were rather insistent, weren’t they?

Death smiled. “You do that. I’ll escort him out, Destiny. If you don’t mind.”

“I never do.”

“I know you don’t.”

“My lady,” Coran said, offering Death his elbow as he began walking down winding cobblestone path (he swears it wasn’t there before, but he was used to this kind of occurrence).

They walked in silence for a while, and slowly the scenery began to fade. The ground grew smoother, the stones disappeared, only to be replaced by the smooth white floors of the castle. “Tell me,” Death said, turning to him, the last strands of the garden hovering around her edges. “Allura, how is she?”

“She is a very strong woman, I would never entrust anyone else to this task but her.” Coran smiled and clasped his hand over Death’s own. “I care for her as if she were my own daughter, and I will do everything in my power to keep her safe,” he said.

Death’s features softened. “Thank you. If things go south, I don’t...I don’t think I could go through with it. So thank you, Coran. And take care, the coming months won’t be easy for anyone.” She stood up on her toes and kissed his cheek, before slipping her hand out from under his and turning away. The blurred edges of the garden disappeared with her, leaving Coran and the front of the invisible maze in the Castle of the Lions.

He looked around the whitewashed walls and the seemingly empty room. It was almost poetic, really. “End training simulation.” He flicked his wrist and walked out the door.

 

“Look. All I’m saying is that we need to think this through. I would love to make the Voltron alliance as big and powerful as possible-- oh hey Coran,” Hunk hardly spared him a glance, and continued stirring a bowl of some new cooking experiment while Pidge, Lance and Keith sat on/around the counter (respectively, to no one’s surprise). “But the speciest tension we’ve already encountered with the marmorites is a little high and I don’t think the Xalon rebels are particularly keen on working with them.”

“But the Xalon have contacts all over this whole sector! Allying with them is our best of liberating the people here.” Pidge said as she tried to stick her finger in the bowl, only to be swatted away.

“Did we decide “people” is a species inclusive term?” Lance asked.

“Yeah.” Keith crossed his arms. “And it sounds a hell of a lot better than ‘beings’ or ‘life-forms.’”

Coran took a seat next to Lance. “What are we discussing today?”

“Well you see, I was just trying to make cookies--I will succeed one day, Pidge,” Hunk threw a dirty glance at the girl in question, “but then these guys showed up and we started talking about whether or not it would be a good idea for us to hunt down the Xalon rebels and ally with them.”

“The Xalon? They’re still around?” Coran asked. “When I was just a boy, I had a friend who was Xalon. I figured the Galra would have taken them long ago, they’re known for their stealthiness! Their scales can change color and reflect light to keep them perfectly hidden from sight. Of course it never worked on the Galra.”

“Why not?” Pidge asked.

“We can see infrared light,” Keith said, shrugging.

“Wait, you have heat vision?” Lance said, slamming his hands on the table in surprise.

“Uh, yeah? It’s not super strong, at least for me, but things just look… brighter? when they’re hot. Like stoves or incandescent lights or warm-blooded animals, like people. You all sort of...glow.”

“Dude, that is so cool!”

“Oh man, Galra Keith is way cooler than normal Keith.”

“I told you, Hunk, I’m not any different now than I was.”

“Yeah, but you are open about it, which is kind of cool,” Pidge said, making another sly lunge for Hunk’s unfinished kitchen creation. (He dodged and swatted her away, to her disappointment).

“We were talking about the Xalon though,” Keith said. “Not me.”

“Oh right.”

“I figured they were all wiped out or enslaved by the Galra very early on in the war,” Coran said. “We all lived in the same star system, and their races never did get along very well.”

Lance hummed, drumming his fingers on his knee. “So maybe some of them survived. Maybe it’s a code name. Like they’re drawing on the camouflage-i-ness of the Xalon to express how well they’re hiding.” (with how fast his fingers were tapping, it was easy to miss the dried blood on his cuticles)

“Well, whether they lived or died, the Xalon rebels are a very real, if very quiet organization. We need to ally with them. Voltron can’t be everywhere at once, and Lotor is taking back worlds that we’ve liberated. Also, they’ve got contacts everywhere. It will be way easier to keep track of him and figure out what exactly he’s trying to do,” Pidge said.

“And _I’m_ just saying that I don’t think they’ll want to work with the Marmorites. They might turn on us, and then we’ll have that whole organization on our bad side, instead of quietly fighting the empire, like they’re doing now.” Hunk huffed, dropping the bowl onto the counter with a quiet bang (Keith flinched). “We just need to think about this realistically is all I’m saying.” He turned to the far side of the kitchen and started fumbling for a cookie sheet.

“Well, Keith’s galra and everyone has been fine with him leading Voltron so far,” Lance said. “We’ll just explain the situation. They don’t have to talk to each other if they don’t want. We’re all fighting for the same thing.”

“But not everybody knows that I’m part galra. We’re not exactly open with it,” Keith said.

“True…” his finger-drumming sped up.

“I say we bring this up to the Princess and Shiro. They will certainly have good input,” Coran said, standing up and stretching. “It’s getting rather late, I’m going to go find Allura and shut the castle down for this rotation.”

“Okay Coran, see you tomorrow,” Pidge called after him as he walked out of the kitchen. He could see her rooting herself further into Desire’s realm with every passing Quintant. It made his heart burn, with pride or fear, he did not know.

He was halfway down the hall when he heard the door whizzing open again. Footsteps--they were running for him. “Coran!” Ah. Lance.

He turned and smiled at the boy. “What can I do you for, my boy?”

“I, uh…” Lance skidded to a halt and immediately began fiddling with the hairs at the base of his neck. He seemed particularly fixated with something on the floor. “I’ve been having a lot of trouble sleeping lately, and I was wondering if you had anything for that?”

“Insomnia, eh?” Coran clapped Lance on the shoulder and began walking down the corridor again. “Don’t worry about a thing, I’ll get you fixed up right away.” He leaned down. “Between you and me, I had to get King Alfor through one too many sleepless nights back in the day. Comes with the job, I think.”

Lance laughed. “I don’t doubt it.”

 

They stopped by the infirmary and Coran located some water-soluble tablets for Lance to try. _Our physiology is similar enough that these should work. Don’t take more than one a day though, and if you start to feel weird at all, come find me._ Lance had laughed and replied that he would be sure to keep Coran informed, then scurried off to his room _hopefully to actually get some sleep tonight._ He wondered if it wouldn’t be a bad idea for Allura to take a few.

He stood in the doorway to the bridge, arms crossed and leaning against the doorframe. The princess and Shiro were deep in discussion. Allura had expanded the map and highlighted certain points on it (recent sightings of lotor? Possible locations for the rest of the teludov pieces? He couldn’t be sure) and she was gesturing to it, spinning the map occasionally. Shiro’s eyebrows were furrowed, his weight all on one leg, and he tapped his chin absently with his galra arm, gesturing it occasionally when he spoke.

He really did seem so put together. So in control.

They both did.

 

(too bad it wouldn’t--couldn’t--last forever)

 

“Coran!” he’d been spotted. Allura waved him over. “I was hoping I’d see you. How long have you been standing there? Never mind that, I need your thoughts on something.”

“Anything, Princess. What’s on your mind?” he walked over to where they stood, dodging the holographic stars that hung between them.

“The Teludov. Do we know exactly what happened to it? Shiro and I were trying to track it down, but we were both a little distracted during and after the battle with Zarkon to know where and why it broke.”

“We were hoping you would know a little more since you helped engineer it,” Shiro said. The dark circles under his eyes were awfully pronounced today.

“Ah yes. It is possible that it took a hit during transport, seeing as we didn’t stay cloaked as long as we would have liked. However, it’s more likely that it imploded from stress or was targeted by anyone who didn’t make it through the wormhole.” Coran said, pulling the map over to where the teludov was originally set up.

“Seeing as the galra had a piece of it on that base, that seems the most likely,” Shiro said.

“Uhp, uhp, uhp!” Coran wagged a finger in Shiro’s face. “Not so fast! If they had, they would not have held that piece separately from the rest. And come to think of it, if it had taken a hit before or mid-transport, there’s no way the whole fleet would have made it through.”

“Leaving only the second option--it simply imploded.” Allura nodded. “Meaning that the pieces could realistically be anywhere.”

“Anyone could have them.” Shiro’s hand fell from his face. “You’re the only one who can operate it though, right?”

Allura shook her head. “Any altean could. Since Haggar is altean she could operate it as well.”

“Not to alarm you, but she could probably operate it with significantly more power than you, Princess. Her access and exposure to nearly unlimited pure quintessence is staggering, especially compared to your natural supply.” Coran rocked on his feet, his eyes widening in realization. “No offense intended, princess. You are incredibly powerful you just--”

“Coran, it’s okay. I understand.” she smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She turned back to the map. “There’s so many pieces to this puzzle, I’m not sure if I can realistically put them all together, even if I had the time. Even if I didn’t have the galra empire breathing down my neck.” Her hand dropped down to her side.

Shiro rested a hand on her shoulder. “I think you should get some sleep. We’ll talk about it with the rest of the team in the morning”

“Excellent thinking. I’ll put the castle into sleep mode for you, Princess.” Coran leaned forward and made a show of “whispering” to her (and Shiro, by extension). “The paladins were down in the kitchen baking a late-night snack, if you wanted a cookie to help settle your mind.”

“That actually...sounds really nice.” Allura’s shoulders relaxed and she exhaled deeply. “Shiro?”

“I think I’ll pass. I haven’t shaken this headache yet, and I’ll probably just catch some shut-eye.”

“The kitchen is on the way to your rooms, walk with me?” Allura asked, cocking her head toward the door.

A small smile flickered across Shiro’s face. “I’d love to.”

Coran watched them go. They fell into easy conversation--thankfully not on the topic of the war. Allura’s smile almost reached her eyes. Almost. He’d swing by her room in a few minutes and see if she wanted any of the sleeping medication.

He turned his attention to the console. The ship responded to his touch, and hummed pleasantly. “It’s going to be a ride, old girl.” he mumbled. The map collapsed back into its console, the holographic stars whizzing toward him and leaving the room open. Empty. “I just hope they can take it.” He cast a glance over his shoulder to where Allura and Shiro disappeared through the door. “I was going to tell them. I should tell them.” he tapped a few things on his console, dimming the lights, cloaking and “anchoring” the castle for the few hours they would all be sleeping.

“If only I had that book.” He exhaled heavily. “It says everything, doesn’t it? Everything that happens? When do I tell them? How will they take it?” he looked up through the nearly impenetrable, clear walls of the bridge into the vastness of space. “They’re all dealing with so much right now, would this just make it worse? The clouds didn’t say anything about this, about my role in what needs to happen.”

He looked back down at the time table on his console, and forced a laugh. “Look at me, talking to myself. I must be getting old.” He double-checked a few more systems (alarms, scanners, life-support), and closed down his console. The empty chairs of the paladins seemed almost threatening as he walked across the bridge toward the door. Allura’s controls glowed a dim, dark blue, like the midnight, moonlit sky on Altea. Like the night. The death of the day.  

He wouldn’t tell them yet. Allura had lost so much, she didn’t need any more burdens on her young shoulders.

She didn’t need to know that she would carry the heaviest burden of them all.

He’d told Death that Allura was strong, and he hadn’t lied. She had as much fire as her father and the steadfast resilience of her mother. That didn’t mean that he didn’t worry about her, though. That every time he saw her, ever since she was born, that his heart lurched. Alfor always wondered why Coran never spent as much time with young Allura as he did the other Altean children. Coran never had the heart to tell him (hardly had the heart to admit it to himself) that every time he looked at Allura, all he could see was Death.

She was the child born to bear that burden.

Only the second one, in the history of time, born to be Death itself.

 

And it broke his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowie, season 3, amiright? I've been working on this fic for a while, but I didn't quite know where to go with it until I watched the new season. Suddenly I have a plot and an ending and motivation. crops are thriving, skin is clear, all that jazz. Also my Youngest sister (she's 10) is my beta, and so if you don't know what's going on, you'd better check your comprehension at the door (I'm kidding, just ask me and I'll see what I can do to clear confusion).
> 
>  
> 
> [my tumblr](https://fullmetalhearts.tumblr.com/)


	3. Two -- Despair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team makes contact with the Xalon rebels, the reader discovers which paladins align with the remaining 4 Endless (Dream, Delirium, Destruction, and Despair), and Team Voltron is under some Stress (TM)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for suicide attempt. it's vague, but if you don't want to read it, stop reading at "coran found them like that, curled into each other" (it's right at the end)

## Chapter Two

#### Despair

 

                “I had the strangest dream last night,” Hunk said, his voice cracked and blurred by the coms. “Like, it really honestly was the most perplexing thing my subconscious has ever come up with.”

                “Really?” Lance called back to him. “Can you tell me later? You’re too far away and I don’t want whatever is interfering with our coms to ruin anything for me.” He took the red lion into a dive, allowing the planet’s gravity to pull more speed out of the engines. The Galra base never had a chance to react before the red-hot blast demolished it.

                “Well get over here and cover for me!”

                “Yeah yeah sure, where are you?” Lance pulled Red out of the hard upward ascent, grumbling something about how much faster and more difficult to control Red was. He spun around, searching for any sign of the yellow lion

                “Directly southwest of your position, Lance!”

                “Coran? Are the coms up?” Lance perked up, turning and heading towards Hunk.

                “Not quite. Pidge and I managed to bolster the castle, so I’ve got a clear link with all of you, but we couldn’t stabilize the link between your lions. Pidge decided that our best option was for you to deal with it, and if necessary I’ll relay messages through the castle system.”

                “Huh. Weird but okay. Is Pidge coming out then?”

                “Yep! She just ran to the hanger bay, so she should--oh look, there she is. Paladins! All five lions are on the field! There are only a few more plants that need destroyed—make that a couple more. Nice work, Pidge! Keith, there’s a weapons hanger near you--”

                Coran continued to call out positions or orders, while Lance zipped through the air toward Hunk’s position. The air was littered with small fighter planes in various states of disrepair, and he had never been happier that Red’s reaction time was faster than Blue’s. As touchy as her controls were, it was nice in environments like this. He made a mental note to thank Keith for the mini run-down he had given him of how best to handle the lion. As much as he loved Red, he still couldn’t _feel_ her the same way he had always been able to feel Blue in the back of his mind. Like, yeah sure he could still tell when Red was thinking something at him, but it just wasn’t the same. (He knew Keith felt the same way, which is partially why he asked him for the help—to get the red paladin back in his lion.) (he wished Blue would let him back in. It was lonely without her constant hum in his subconscious.)

                The yellow lion came into view around the next ridgeline, and Lance immediately dove into the fight with his best friend. “So this dream. Tell me more,” Lance said, guiding Red to dance around the other lion and ships in the area, wreaking havoc in their wake.

                “Oh hey Lance, thanks for actually showing up to help me.”

                “Quit being salty, you’ve clearly got this covered.”

                “No but really. Okay so it started out with me just walking around the castle, right? Which is weird, but not too weird. The night cycle was on, so all the lights were dim and it was really quiet—on your left!”

                “Got it.” Lance spun around to blast a small ship trying to sneak up on him.

                “So I walk down to the hangers and Yellow wasn’t there, so I just opened the door and went looking for her, in my pajamas.”

                “Like you do,” Lance grinned.

                “Yeah, like you do.” Hunk laughed. “Anyway so I head out and apparently we’d landed on some sort of planet, so I just start walking up this path to this sketchy af looking mansion and there was this pumpkin head guy? I don’t know.”

                “Weird, but not particularly unusual.” Lance brought his lion down to the ground. “We’ve got this area cleaned up, anywhere else we need to hit up, Coran?”

                “No, it looks like the others have everything basically covered. Just head back here and we can meet up with the governments of this planet.”

                “Rodger that!” Lance and Hunk turned their lions and began flying back toward the castle.

                “And Lance, I haven’t even gotten to the weird part, just let me talk.”

                “Okay okay, whatever you say.”

                “I can hear you rolling your eyes at me.” Lance laughed; he could hear Hunk sigh over the still-fuzzy (albeit better quality than before) coms. “So I get into this mansion-castle thing and this massive black crow looks straight at me, says ‘oh it’s you, follow me’ and flies off into another room.”

                “Did you follow it?”

                “Well duh, what else was I supposed to do? So I follow it into this like, dining hall? And the only other person is this guy who’s like, paper white and his hair is fluffy and silvery and he’s all dressed in white and he’s just sipping on some tea or some shit like that and the crow lands on the chair next to him and says that I’m here, and this guy gestures me to sit down so I _do_ , and suddenly I’m all kinds of self-conscious about my pajamas. But he just looks at me and his eyes are black. Like, the whole thing is just black like some kind of quiznaking demon. And then he pours me a cup of tea and tells me that it’s nice to finally see me in the house. So I ask him who he is and he laughs and says, ‘You don’t recognize me? I’m Dream.”

                Lance snorted at that. “You were dreaming about dreaming?”

                “Something like that! I don’t know. He kept talking about me having partial control over his ‘realm’ and how I’m supposed to be involved in some huge thing, but that he wasn’t actually supposed to tell me this. So I asked him if I was dreaming, and he looked super confused and the crow started laughing and said of course I was. And then Dream, or whoever he was, looks up at this massive hourglass in the corner of the room, and said I should probably be going soon, but that it was nice to meet me in person. And he stood up, so I stood up, and he shook my hand, but it was like _ice cold._ My tactile senses are never great while I’m dreaming, but holy hell I can still _feel it._ And then he said that he’d see me soon, and then I woke up in a cold sweat and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.”

                “I…uh…wow,” Lance stammered. “I don’t even know what to say to that. What do you think it means?”

                “If I knew, do you think I would be asking you?” Hunk sounded so done, Lance had to suppress a snort of amusement.

                “Okay true. Um. Coran? I know you can hear us. Thoughts?” Lance called out.

                “Uh, well, maybe you just had a little too much food goo before going to bed.” Coran chuckled nervously. “I’m sure it was just a silly dream, I wouldn’t think too much about it.”

                “Okay… sounds fake but okay…” Hunk muttered. Lance burst into laughter.

                “Hunk, buddy, you’re my favorite.”

                “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let’s just get this diplomatic thing over with.”

 

The planet they had liberated housed a Xalon outpost (they had gone through significant toil to verify that information), though no one was supposed to know about it. It made diplomacy tense, both parties pretending they didn’t know things that they already did.

_“We should ally with them; they’ve been around for long enough that their input would be invaluable. But Hunk’s concerns are valid. We’ll establish a presence in their space and wait for them to warm to us before we contact them,” Allura said. “We can’t risk losing allies in this war.”_

Lance couldn’t help but notice that Hunk kept running his thumb over the palm of his right hand throughout the meeting.

 

It really was going smoothly. They were all worried, but the various leaders and representatives from the planet were responding surprisingly well to Allura’s sales pitch of Voltron, even if they kept glancing sideways at Kolivan and the other Blade of Mamora representatives that had chosen to stick around for the “fluffy stuff” (as they called it. Lance knew it was just to get a rise out of Allura). There had only been a few snide remarks about trusting the Galra, and they had mostly quieted after Lance defended their honor.

So really, the diplomacy was going smoothly. He had high hopes for this planet joining the alliance, and maybe more planets in the system.

That’s why, when one of the leaders from the southern hemisphere excused himself rather suddenly, no one really noticed. Or cared. Allura was just finishing up her brief summary of Lotor’s involvement in the war (what the planet needed to know about him, anyway) when a faint whistling could be heard above the quiet discussions of the conference room.

Lance threw a quizzical look at Hunk, who shrugged. He turned to Pidge, who shook her head, but pulled out her pad and began typing lazily. The whistling was getting louder. Lance shuffled awkwardly in his seat, and he could see Keith and the Marmorites visibly wincing (more sensitive hearing?).

“He will try to sound like… your ally…” Allura trailed off, her mouth hanging partway open with her unfinished thought, her hand in the air begging to finish the gesture. She was silent for a tick. _Maybe_ two. (it sure felt longer than that).

Her eyes widened (it was too late).

“ _GET DOWN!”_

Lance grabbed the back of Pidge’s suit, felt the cold metal through the gloved on his hand, and pulled her down. The edge of the table bit into his other hand and his knees hit the ground harder than he would like (it would probably bruise). He held his breath. Pidge’s yelp was swallowed by the explosion that engulfed the room. Everything went red.

He registered the heat first, followed closely by the smell of burning (flesh. plastic. wood). Vaguely he realized he was holding Pidge against his chest and she was clinging to him. His ears were ringing. Something warm ran down his face. He tried to open his eyes and immediately winced at the burning pain in his forehead. And his cheek. Pidge was shaking violently. He pulled an arm up (it was too heavy) and prodded his face. His fingers brushed the shrapnel that was (apparently) embedded in his forehead and he gasped; his jaw clenching (which, incidentally, strained the burns across his cheeks).

Someone’s feet ran past him (dancing around the burning rubble) (Lance really was thankful the table was as stable as it was). Those same feet ran back, and suddenly there was a hand in front of him. Lance looked up into Hunk’s (burned and bleeding) face. His mouth was moving, he was talking? Lance couldn’t tell over the still-present ringing in his ears. Lance shook his head, trying to shake the ringing.

“I can’t hear you,” he tried to say. Thought he said it. Still isn’t quite sure.

Strong hands wrapped under his arms and pulled him and Pidge out from under the table. He swayed on his feet, but braced himself against the table. Looks like his paladin armor kept him mostly in one piece (it was a little scratched and a lot singed, but unbroken). He shook his head again as the ringing began to fade.

“—going on? What was that? I _need_ to know!”

Lance latched on to Pidge’s frantic voice to ground himself back in reality.

“We were attacked. We need to get everyone out of here, Allura thinks there’s another missile on the way. Are you okay? Can you walk?”

“Well I’m functional, whatever that means.”

Lance blinked, and Pidge was vaulting over the table away from them. Hunk’s hands were on his face. “Lance! Lance, buddy, are you with me?” he couldn’t hear out of his right ear. It felt like something was clogging it. His head swimming, he nodded.

“Yeah, I hear you.” Was that his voice? He sounded terrible.

Hunk’s eyes were roaming his face, fixating on whatever was stuck in his forehead. “Oh quiznak. Listen Lance, give the dizziness just a few more minutes and it’ll fade. We’ll have to fix the burns when we get back.”

“Yeah I figured,” Lance mumbled.

“Can you walk? I need to go help,” Hunk glanced around the room, his face pinched with worry. “Lance this isn’t good.”

“I think I’m good.” Lance said, pushing himself off the table. He was far too aware of his own body weight pressing down into the ground. His vision started going back, and he grabbed Hunk’s shoulder to steady himself while he blinked it away. “Yeah I’m good. Just.” He shook his head again. “Let’s go save some people.”

Hunk didn’t look entirely convinced of his well-being, but it would have to be good enough. They had work to do, after all. Lance finally allowed himself a look around the “room” (the roof had been blown off and most of the building was currently burning rubble, so room didn’t really seem like a good descriptor, but oh well). The conference table was thankfully solid marble, and had withstood the blast surprisingly well. Everyone who had taken cover there (as Lance and Pidge had) looked like they would be alright, if a little worse for wear. It was everyone else that was the real problem.

The air was littered with noise. Screaming, crying, pleas for help and death—Lance couldn’t distinguish between them, and frankly he didn’t want to. He tried to tune them out as he dug through the rubble looking for survivors. The task was harder than he thought it would be. Literally every flammable thing in the area was on fire, and often the limbs he found sticking out from under fallen support beams were dismembered or, if they were attached, it was to a rather dead host.

He was pulling one of the serving hands out from under the crumbling remains of a statue (her legs were crushed. She probably wouldn’t walk again), when a cry pierced the air—too familiar to ignore. Lance spun around, the partially conscious alien cradled in his arms.

Shiro standing across the room, back to the corner, his arm activated and held against his body in a defensive positon. His breath came in ragged heaves of his shoulders and blood dripped down his face and off his chin. His flesh hand was balled into a fist and digging into the gaping hole in his side. His eyes jerked around in their sockets, as if he was seeing too much. As if he was a cornered animal.

“Stay back!” He yelled again, his voice cracking. “I won’t let you touch me again, you can’t hurt me!” he pressed his hand farther into the wound, and screamed.

“Shiro! Shiro listen it’s us, it’s me!” Allura took a step toward him; but he lunged at her, Galra arm missing her by millimeters as she jumped backward out of the way.

“I won’t fight anymore!” he yelled. “I’ll die before I do!”

Pidge ran up next to him, stopping before the serving girl’s feet could hit her. “What’s wrong with Shiro?” she asked. “He’s never…”

Lance shook his head. “I don’t know but it’s scaring me. I need to take her,” he gestured to the girl in his arms, “to safety. Maybe you can calm him down? He knows you.”

Pidge nodded. Her hair was burnt nearly to the scalp on her left side. “I can try.” She took off running again. Lance pulled the alien closer to his chest and ran (as much as he could) to the bomb shelter _literally right next to_ the conference room (he cursed the irony) where Coran was attempting to treat everyone.

He set her down gently, but she still winced as one of her legs folded awkwardly beneath her. Lance cursed and adjusted her, apologizing profusely. Coran was at his side in an instant, crouching down to look her over. “Oh good golly, what have we here?”

“She got the bad side of their high priestess,” Lance said. Coran was quiet for half a second too long for comfort. “The statue. The one by that huge tapestry? She got caught under it.” Though he tried not to, he couldn’t help but glance around the room and wonder how many of the people in it wouldn’t survive their injuries (how many were already dead?). How many families were going to be incomplete?

“How is damage control?”

Lance almost didn’t hear him, but shook himself back into the present. “Uh, good. I think we’ve almost got everyone. But…uh…there’s something wrong with Shiro.”

Coran flinched (barely). “How so?” his tone was flat, measured.

“He’s not… I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like he can’t see us. He’s screaming that he won’t fight anymore and that we can’t touch him…”

Coran was quiet, his (trembling) hands hovering barely above the alien girl (who had finally slipped into unconsciousness). “Would you…” he paused, as if weighing his words, “say he’s in a state of Delirium?” his eyes were unfocused, as if he was seeing something Lance couldn’t.

“Yeah actually that sounds about right,” Lance said. “What do we do?”

Coran seemed to snap back to reality. “Go see if you can calm him down. The explosion probably triggered some repressed memories.”

Lance nodded sharply and turned on his heel back out into the fire and the rubble. “Allura!” he called, jogging toward her. She looked up at him and smiled (barely). She was a little worse for wear (a little singed and scratched around the edges), but nothing terribly serious, thankfully. “What’s the sitch?”

“We need to start evacuating this city. Kolivan thinks that another missile attack is likely, if not certain.”

Lance almost hated to ask. “Shiro?”

Allura winced. “Shiro is…better than he was. He thought Pidge was Matt, and she’s used that to her advantage to calm him down some, but I still don’t think he knows where he is.”

Lance nodded, then glanced around. “Have you seen Keith?”

Allura opened her mouth to answer, but was cut off by Keith yelling from somewhere behind Lance. (oh. There he is). “Everyone! To your lions!” Lance whipped around. Keith was standing on the marble table, brandishing his activated bayard, and looking like every bit of the Galra soldier he was. His armor was blackened and the skin on his face was charred and bleeding (it didn’t look like he cared).

“Keith! We need to evacuate the city—not” Lance gestured to Keith (staying far enough away that Keith couldn’t hit him if he lunged) “this!”

“Kolivan said there would be another missile coming. We need to go stop it—we need to destroy whoever caused this!” Keith’s grip on his sword tightened.

“Evacuating the city should be our first priority. We’re the defenders of the universe, Keith! Our mission is to _save_ people!” Lance gestured around wildly. “We have no idea who did this! Where would you even start?”

“Does it matter?” Keith spat. His eyes blazed with a cold, golden light. “If we destroy whoever did this, then we won’t need to evacuate.”

Beside him, Allura sighed. “Keith’s right. If worst comes to worst, we can try to redirect any other attacks with our lions.” Keith nodded, and yelled the order again.

Lance’s gut twisted, this didn’t feel right. Keith wasn’t in his right mind. Usually Lance could talk him down from these irrational highs, but not today. He glanced over to where Pidge was curled around a cowering, shaking Shiro. His hands were balled into fists in her hair and around her back, his face pressed into her shoulder.

She had looked over when Keith called, her face flooded with panicked indecision. Lance shook his head and gestured for her to stay there with Shiro. They probably wouldn’t need Voltron, and as much as Pidge was central to the team, this was more important.

“Lance! Come _on!_ ”

He felt his shoulders fall at Keith’s irritated voice, then immediately squared them and ran for the Red Lion.

 

He _knew_ this was a bad idea. He knew it was a bad idea for every _quiznaking step_ he took towards Red, he knew it was a bad idea during take-off, and now it’s _glaringly obvious._ Keith has completely shut himself off from the rest of the team (com interference. He wasn’t staying close enough to maintain contact) and the castle was currently unmanned, so there wasn’t even hope of contacting him that way. (in other news, they had found the source of the interference. The Xalon rebels were jamming every frequency they could, which just-so-happened to include the lion-to-lion channel).

Actually, turns out it was the Xalon who attacked them. Hunk had guessed right, they didn’t want anything to do with the Galra (the long road to diplomacy just gets longer). So they sabotaged the meeting with the Voltron Alliance hoping to gain _quiznak knows what_ and now more people than Lance would like are dead because both from the initial attack and because Keith will not calm the fuck down.

They found the origin of the first missile pretty easily, but it looked an awful lot like the Xalon knew they would. The whole place was empty (thank goodness, because Keith wasted no time in blowing it all to hell). While they were all still in radio range, Hunk and Allura had made the grand mistake of theorizing that they evacuated to a second location where they could launch another attack. Keith had taken off before Lance could talk any sense into him (this was a habited planet! The Xalon were not the enemy! We need to befriend them, not destroy them!), and thus ensued the panic that they were in now.

Allura and Hunk took off after Keith. Lance, in the fastest Lion, was to report to Coran before joining everyone else in the “calm Keith down before he screws something up” mission. He was cursing all the way back to the bomb site, and Red wasn’t happy either. Her conscious kept pawing at the back of his mind, making his whole being squirm with discomfort. He just hoped Pidge had her helmet on—or was near to it—so he didn’t have to get out, because Red would definitely take off without him if he let her.

Thankfully, whatever God there was was actually looking out for him this time.

“Lance? Is that you?” Pidge’s voice cracked in over the coms.

“Yes! It’s me, what’s the sitch down there?” He tried to sound more nonchalant than he felt. Not sure how well he succeeded.

“Uh. Could be better? Shiro’s doing better, thank god, but nobody here trusts the Marmorites so the evac is real frustrating.” Her voice was strained. Something crashed behind her and she winced. “How’s everything for you guys? Not good I’ll take it?”

Lance sighed. “No not really. Something’s wrong with Keith, I can’t get him to listen to me, and he’s really…” Lance shook his head, but realized Pidge couldn’t see him. “He’s not okay.”

“Coran said something about that.”

Lance perked up. “Wait really?”

“Yeah I don’t remember much, because he was muttering things at a million miles a minute, but he said something about the explosion triggering Destruction? And then he said Keith’s name and something about how he “wasn’t ready” but yeah he didn’t sound happy about it either.” Pidge’s words came in short gasps of breath, as if she was running.

“Is Coran near you? Can I talk to him?”

Pidge almost laughed (or, she tried to). “Yeah I have no idea where he is.”

Lance groaned. “Great.” Red shivered under his hands and whined in the back of his mind. “I think I’ve got to go, Red’s not happy.”

“K great. Keep everyone out of trouble for me, okay?”

Lance forced a chuckle. “No promises.” He turned Red and she sprung forward before he gave the order. Her worry was clawing at the back of his mind and flooding his veins with a jumpy anxiety. His heart was racing and he was shaking _so bad_.

“Hunk? Allura?” He called out, hoping to make some, ANY, contact. They really hadn’t thought this part of the plan through very well. The scanners were wacked just as bad as the coms, so he had no way of finding any of them. “Keith?” He had an entire planet to scour, this was _not good._

Red pushed on the back of his mind (not so gently. He missed Blue’s quiet, patient prodding) and whined loudly. “You think you can find him, girl?” he asked. She whined again, so he closed his eyes and relinquished control to her. Her adrenaline flooded his body (he shivered—convulsed, maybe—and gripped the controls tighter to make the shaking stop), she spun and launched herself, well, hopefully toward Keith and the rest of the team.

Objectively he knew that Red was Keith’s lion because of the whole “impulsive/act-before-you-think” thing, but he hadn’t exactly put two and two together until Red actually crashed into a _building_ in her attempt to find the shortest route possible to Keith. Lance cursed and thanked the bloody heavens that the damage wasn’t terrible before gripping Red’s controls tighter and paying closer attention to where she was going.

Fighting her around cliff-faces or cities was harder than it should have been. She pulled at the controls for every (minor!! Literally he was just keeping her from hitting things!!!) detour, and growled at him. He was beginning to understand how Hunk felt every day in the flight simulator. His heart was in his throat and he felt like he would puke or black out or both.

When the Blue Lion came into view, Lance felt a choked sob escape his throat. Maybe when Red found Keith she would calm down so he could breathe again—and nope. It was just Allura here.

“Lance!” her voice cracked in through his helmet as he fought Red to a stop (she wasn’t happy about). “Lance there’s something wrong, we can’t get him to stop he’s burning everything—” her voice cut off with what sounded like a worried sob.

“I, uh…” Red pitched under him, her anxiety mounting and spilling over to him (it was too much, too much). “We need to get him out of his lion. Red’s going to kill me if I don’t get there fast enough, so…”

“Yes. Go. I’ll head back and update Coran.” Lance could practically hear her curt nod. Blue curled back on her haunches and jumped into the air away from them.

Lance loosened his grip on the brakes. “Okay girl, let’s go find your paladin.” Red jumped forward and he had to swallow down the acid that spilled into his mouth. She spun forward, cresting a ridgeline to reveal… It was like every apocalypse movie he’d ever seen. Like the nuclear wastelands on earth, but different. This scene was alive, pulsing with the erratic heartbeat of a hunted animal. It burned and flickered before his eyes, beautiful in a terrible, terrible way.

In the midst of it were the Black and Yellow Lions. They were swarmed by dozens of small fighter jets, turning and twisting in a battle that was doing more damage to the landscape than each other. The jets were too fast and the lions too strong and everything else was suffering for it. (It was almost poetic. The perfect image of destruction).

Red wasn’t quite so struck by the poetry, and instead vouched to jump straight into the fray—and straight into Black’s line of fire.

He could see it happening, as if in slow motion. Red charging toward her paladin (she was so worried), Keith hadn’t seen her—or maybe he had and she was just another target to him. Lance pushed on the controls, screaming for her to listen but she wouldn’t—couldn’t—react fast enough. Black’s jaws were opening and for a split second everything was white (poetic, right?).

But then Red lurched and she was spinning out of control and the cockpit was flashing and the landscape was moving too fast away from him and then too close to him. He doesn’t remember the impact.

 

... 

 

The door (front?) of the healing pod hissed open, waking him from blissful unconsciousness. His knees went weak, as the pod was no longer supporting him, and he stumbled forward into Hunk’s waiting arms.

“Lance!” Shiro’s voice. From across the room. Footsteps coming toward him. More than just Shiro, though. “Oh good quiznak it’s good to see you in one piece again.”

In one piece? He tried to open his eyes, but the blinding white castle lights were too much for his muddy brain. At least Hunk was nice and still holding him. “Wha…” he coughed, finding his throat way too dry. “What happened?” he wished he had some good chicken broth ( _Dios_ that sounds heavenly).

“You crashed.” (white light from the Black lion)That one was Pidge. (spinning, alarms blaring) He still didn’t want to open his eyes, and buried his face further into Hunk’s shoulder (crashing into the console). He patted Lance’s back and held him tighter (something sharp—a burning pain in his stomach). Honestly, bless this man. “It was… pretty bad.” She cleared her throat (probably adjusted her glasses too). “I mean, I didn’t see you until after they’d pulled you out and done all the emergency clean-up, but…”

“We thought we were going to lose you,” Hunk said, his face pressed into the crown of Lance’s head. “When Red went down I was so scared. Lance it was so bad.”

“I’m sorry,” Lance choked out. The familiar burning at the back of his throat was mounting, his eyes pricking. “I couldn’t control her. Red was so worried about Keith I couldn’t get her to move—”

“You crashed because you _couldn’t control her?_ ” Keith. He sounded so angry. “You almost _died_ because you couldn’t control my fucking lion?” he wasn’t close. He was across the room, maybe? “What kind of _bullshit?!”_

“Keith…” Shiro warned. Lance didn’t want to look up. He just squeezed his eyes shut and tightened his grip on hunk’s shirt until he felt like his knuckles would crack.

“No! Don’t ‘Keith’ me like I’m some kind of temperamental child. Lance could have _died.”_   His fists curled tighter around themselves. “This is a problem, Shiro!”

“The real problem is that you were too busy fucking this whole mission over to listen to anything we had to say! We could have prevented all of this if you hadn’t run away on whatever destructive hero mission you decided was more important than I don’t know, actually saving the universe?!” he doesn’t remember when he pushed Hunk away, but now he’s standing with his hands balled into fists at his sides (nails digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood), tears running down his face and his knees still too weak to hold him up.

“Me? This is my fault?” Keith’s face was flushing.

“Yes it quiznaking is! _You_ shot me!”

“And why is that, oh right! Because you had _completely lost control of my lion!”_

“Keith!” Shiro stepped toward the fuming Red paladin.

“I couldn’t control her because she was freaking out about you! If you hadn’t gone on some sort of destructive rampage we would both be fine!” Lance didn’t remember when he started yelling.

“That’s the problem, is it? Blue rejected you and you can’t bond with Red? Maybe you were right! Maybe you shouldn’t be a part of this team—not if none of the lions will even take you anymore!”

“Keith that’s enough!” Shiro stepped between them and the tension dropped immediately. “You’re both at fault here!” he sighed, pressing his flesh fingers to his temples. “Let’s just…get some rest. Talk about this when we’ve all cooled down. Lance, are you okay?” he looked over, his eyes soft but tired and frustrated.

Lance’s shoulders sagged. “I’m fine. I just…want to sleep for a few days.”

Shiro smiled. “Okay, sleep well. Hunk?”

“Yeah I’ll take him.”

Lance felt strong arms around his shoulders, then under his knees, and suddenly he was airborne and tucked against Hunk’s chest. His eyes fluttered shut; he was so exhausted it hurt.

 

Turns out “so exhausted it hurt” didn’t actually mean he was going to get any sort of real sleep. He’d slept for maybe half a varga before just lying awake, staring at the ceiling and counting for the nth time the number of imperfections there. The castle was quiet. He could hear hunk snoring through the walls, so the night cycle must be on. Probably couldn’t even talk to Coran—he wasn’t exactly a night owl (come to think of it, Lance had no idea where Coran went at night. Where did he sleep? He always just sort of disappeared). 

He sighed and swung his feet over the bed and onto the floor. The skin on his stomach pulled painfully. He pulled up his shirt and gingerly felt the large, web-like scar that encompassed the greater part of his abdomen. It was still raw and scabbed over in some places, and he winced at the sight of it. There goes his beach body.

He pushed himself to his feet. Maybe a walk around the castle would tire him enough to actually get some sleep. He pulled his robe on over his pajamas, but decided to forego the lion slippers, for once preferring the cold floors of the castle (maybe to ground himself in reality? Maybe the slightly painful cold felt good in some sad, sadistic way).

He padded down the corridor, fingers dragging along the wall and his mind oddly blank (thinking was exhausting). Actually, just living was exhausting. It had been bad enough at the Garrison where there was a mindless routine he could fall into, but here... here he wanted to cry every time he had to get up in the morning knowing full well that there was too much responsibility on his shoulders. Sometimes he just felt so young…too young for this. His 18th birthday had come and gone some time ago. He only knew because his phone was still plodding along on Earth time. He tried not to look at it, it hurt too much.

A soft light was coming from the observatory (he hadn’t even realized he was walking toward it). He peered through the cracked door into the room. It was lit by a few pale, blue lights around the edges of the room. Allura sat on the floor. Her silver hair fell down her back and over her shoulders, twinkling softly (sadly) in the blue light. She had a blanket pulled around her shoulders and was staring up at the stars like they could save her (they couldn’t).

She didn’t notice him until he was sitting beside her.

“Lance, I didn’t hear you come in,” she sounded so tired.

“I was trying not to bug you.” He tried to smile. “Couldn’t sleep?”

She shook her head. “You?”

“Nah.”

Silence fell around them like snow, sparkling in the starlight. Lance looked out into space. They weren’t parked particularly close to anything, and it showed in the endless blackness extending out from the castle. The stars were pinpricks of white, too far away to feel, but close enough to give the illusion of light.

“It reminds me how small we are.” Allura said, quiet enough not to disturb the silence, but loud enough to break it. “Looking up at the universe like this. Everything is so small and far away and I am just one person.” She curled in on herself. “I am just one person in a space that keeps growing infinitely in all directions.”

Lance had always seen Allura in this grand light. He had always seen her as someone so great, so powerful. He had never once doubted that she was up to the task. But looking at her like this—she was so small. So small and so young, thrust into a war she didn’t ask for, and put up against impossible odds.

Truly, none of them had asked for this. They were all just kids. Kids were supposed to save _everything. Everyone._ It was daunting, when he thought about it like that.

“You may be one person, but you’re the greatest person I’ve ever met.” Allura looked over at him, and he smiled. “If anyone can take on Zarkon and win, it’s you.”

She smiled back at him, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. They were quiet for a few moments before she spoke again.

“Do you ever…feel like we’re pawns?”

“What?”

“Pawns. Like dolls. Victims of fate.” She stared out at the void, the minimal lighting casting strange shadows on her face. “Like none of us were supposed to be here. None of this was supposed to happen. We were all supposed to live out different lives. Normal lives. But some higher power decided that wasn’t enough.” She buried her face in her blanket, pulling it tighter around her.

“We’re so close to death,” she breathed, her quivering voice barely above a whisper. “Every day that we’re out here we risk everything. I always knew that but it just…”

“Seems more real now?” Lance offered. She nodded. “I get it. I knew this was dangerous, but I didn’t realize how dangerous until,” he swallowed, “until that missile hit us.”

Allura was quiet. “I can see her, you know.”

Lance hummed a question, but didn’t say anything.

“Death. I can see her. wherever we go. She’s always there, walking around taking people by the hand and leading them away.” She curled tighter into herself, if that was possible. “She was there yesterday. She walked in right before the missile hit. She took so many—” a sob choked out of her throat, cutting off her words. Lance threw and arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his chest where she collapsed into him. “She kept looking at me. She looked so sad—what could, why would she be…?”

Lance stroked her hair and held her tighter against him. “I don’t know. I don’t know,” he didn’t realize he was crying until now. “I don’t know. God I’m so scared.”

 

Coran found them like that, curled into each other, their faces crusted with dried tears and both sleeping fitfully. He woke them gently _dawn is in a few vargas. Maybe try and get some real sleep._ He’d smiled weakly (hadn’t reached his eyes). He picked Allura up (she was still mostly asleep) and moved to carry her out of the room. Lance insisted he could make it to his room on his own. Coran gave him a wary look, but agreed and disappeared with Allura.

He picked himself up off the floor and turned out the lights, engulfing himself in starlight (becoming a part of the nothingness, the void). The walk back to his room was dark. It crept down his throat and into his lungs, choking him.

He stumbled into his room—didn’t bother to turn on the lights—and found himself bent over the toilet, dry heaving while tears poured down his face. He couldn’t breathe—what air he did have came out in coked sobs. He was gasping, drowning.

He wasn’t enough.

He wasn’t enough.

There was nothing he could do—he wasn’t—he couldn’t—

He was broken

Useless

Wrong

His lion had rejected him. Keith’s wouldn’t accept him. He’d almost died—God he wrecked the Red lion. Could she fly? Had he single handedly destroyed Voltron? Doomed the universe?

He collapsed to the cold bathroom floor as another sob wracked his body. They were so close to death. All of them.

Maybe… maybe him especially.

He pulled himself up to the vanity. He was shaking. His legs wouldn’t hold him for long. He splashed some water on his face and tried to rinse his mouth out.

Something moved behind him in the mirror. He looked up, but she was gone. The woman. The woman with the fangs and the hook ring. The woman with the hollow eyes and the ratty black hair she tied back in a bun. The woman who had been in the mirror at every low point in his life for as long as he could remember. The woman who looked exactly like Despair felt. The woman whose presence had always been of some marginal comfort—some reassurance that he wasn’t alone.

She wasn’t here.

He choked on another sob, a fresh round of tears spilling down his cheeks (wasn’t supposed to be a part of team Voltron). His knuckles turned white as his vice-like grip on the counter tightened (seventh wheel. Unwanted). He glanced over at the small, white bottle of sleeping pills Coran had given him (he had a neighbor who took too many and died in the night). He picked it up, his breath calming as he turned it over in his palm.

 

He had always wanted to go peacefully in his sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this was really angsty i'm so sorry (not really lmaooo). Also spoilers, I'm not antagonizing Keith. he's just bad at expressing his worry and has a short temper.  
> (Lance's experience with depression is pretty heavily based on my own.)


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